


Death, Dismay, and the Plots they Lay

by Candlecoo



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Basically a Castle/Bones/or CSI au, Detective AU, Friends to Lovers, Hanzo's working through some shit, Jealousy, Kidnapping, M/M, Murder, Murder Mystery AU, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot Twists, Possessive Behavior, Slow Burn, Some Humor, Strangers to Lovers, These Boys Are Bad At Feelings, Violence, basically all of the Overwatch cast
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-03-07 16:14:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18876679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candlecoo/pseuds/Candlecoo
Summary: Murder is the same no matter where detective Jesse McCree goes. No case hold priority over another, or at least it didn't until Jesse's friend Genji begs him to help his brother work a case across the country in sin city.Jesse is thrown into a case with a crime author who cannot seem to leave his past detective career in the past, a string of seemingly unconnected murders, and a slew of unusual suspects. not to mention whatever budding feelings he may be developing for the best selling author.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so I'm trying my hand at something totally serious and majorly plot driven here, and I'm not sure how this is gonna go. wish me luck. I'm also thinking about getting someone to beta read this if anyone's interested.  
> thanks and please feel free to comment or leave kudos!

She was so immensely tired. The world was turned on its axis and her body was too heavy, too numb to do anything about it. The last few hours were a blur. It was continually becoming more and more difficult to remember. Every thought seemed to escape the woman with each drop of crimson that flowed out of her punctured flesh. 

The sensation of her blood running in long streams down her back, was one of the only things her mind could focus on. Warm trails that burned into her skin as it matted her raven hair and dripped onto the cement. If she tilted her neck at an angle, she could see where it pooled. 

Seeing how massive the circumference of red liquid took up, made her head, her body ached. Ached like she hadn’t in what felt like ages. It was as if the realization of just how much blood had left her body cleared away the almost peaceful numbness. Leaving her stagnant in a brief deadly silence before she was flood with panic. The rhythm of her frantic heart picked put its beating, pushing more of her body’s precious life source into the puddle below her suspended form. Each exhale brought a new wave of incomprehensible pain as her lungs expanded to keep up with her heart rate. In desperation she tried swaying herself to loosen the bounds around her ankles, though consciously she understood that it didn’t matter. If she stayed hanging precariously upside down, she would die. Whether from the loss of blood or the length of time her blood stayed rushed to her brain, this would be the end of her existence. However, if she was some how able to loosen the rope that entrapped her, she was still fated to die. A fall headfirst from this high in the buildings rafters, would undoubtably snap her neck killing her. It was unlikely that she would be able to free herself, she could barely contain a scream from the burning sensation that traveled along her calf muscles just from the effort. Her body screamed at her in agony, but the thick cloth between her lips prevented any sound form escaping her lungs. But he would be displeased if she some how managed to free herself and the thought alone spread a weak smile across her visage.

Was this all worth it? Was satisfying the itch of vengeance and justice really so important to the woman. Did knowing for sure the truth of who murdered her dearest husband, truly out way her own life? The answer would probably forever evade her, and her mind began to lose all coherent thought. God, she should’ve waited. She had put so much work into her personal investigating and for what. Nothing? Why couldn’t she have waited a little longer!? If she had been patient enough, she could’ve handed off all her information to her good friend and she would’ve been saved from this fate. The professionals would’ve handled the confrontation for her, and all her hard work wouldn’t have been wasted. She will never be able to tell them what she knows, hopefully they’re intelligent enough to figure it out themselves.

Silence was the only thing that existed in the moments after. Her mind clear, no. it was empty. Like the room around her, void of anything but the dying sunlight through the high windows and the plops of blood she was sure that made sound but could no longer comprehend.  
She was so tired, but at least she’d finally get to see her love again…  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Anyone who would rely on tv crime dramas may be led to believe that everyday a murder happened in a major American metropolis. One might be swayed to the misconception that homicide was the leading cause of non-natural deaths. Based off these shows people seem to believe that in the days after a murder accrued, the case is processed, solved and sent to trial. Contrary to popular belief cases could take months, years even to get solved, if they ever do get solved. Not to mention how long it takes to prepare a case for trial. If tv networks were to be trusted with relaying true and accurate information, then the population would understand that homicide happens as frequently as rainstorm in the desert. It rarely happens, until it does. Most casualties are victims of unfortunate accidents, such as car collisions, carbon dioxide poisoning and machinery failure. Just to name a few. Some cops are fortunate enough to never have the displeasure of processing a murder investigation at all.

Jesse McCree has never been so lucky. Jesse McCree was one of the worlds top homicide detectives, he had worked over two hundred cases in his fifteen years on the force with Blackwatch Private Investigators. At his current age of thirty-seven Jesse has solves cases in every state nationwide and several overseas. If Jesse was a more fortunate man, he wouldn’t have been surrounded by death for most of his life, and the dead wouldn’t follow him wherever he went.

But that wasn’t the case. Jesse wasn’t a lucky man, has never been.

Misfortune had hung over his head like an unrelenting lover since his mother died just before he was a teenager, leaving him alone in the world. For years afterward he ran with one of the Southwest’s most notorious gangs just to survive. He had learned to smuggle drugs, hotwire cars, steal and kill before he turned sixteen. Was damn good at it too. Good enough for there to have been talk, dangerous talk, of him moving up higher in the group. Someone thought that having a mind for strategy and him being a devil with a handgun was enough to step up as a leader, even at his age. Surprisingly there were others who shared that opinion. Jesse himself didn’t know about it until him and his supposed “followers” were confronted and shot in one of the gang’s old warehouses. 

Luck was on his side that day. The detective that found the group arrived in time to save him from the fate of bleeding to death on the red desert sand at the young age of sixteen and a half. Six more months after that on his seventeenth birthday he would be greeted with adoption papers and a cleared criminal record by the man who saved his life, Gabriel Reyes. The man would later lead him on a new path in life, a life of catching killers instead of being one. Jesse McCree never looked back to the life he had in that desert.

While its true that he never returned to the area of his youth, not to his family’s humble farmhouse or the canyons he cruised by that were painted the shades of the sunset. He didn’t belong there anymore. He hadn’t seen that desert in a little more than twenty years, but the Mojave Desert was the closest he’s come yet. The same blistering heat, the same unforgiving sun. the same vast emptiness leading out cerise cliffs and canyons.

The detective had originally come to Las Vegas Nevada as favor to his colleague and friend Genji Shimada. Genji’s brother lived out here as some type of part time investigator, part time author (like one job wasn’t hard enough, the damn overachiever had to have two stress inducing careers.). According to Genji his brother was requesting a fresh part of eyes to look over some details to a cold case that had been bugging the man. from the information Jesse was briefed on, someone outside of the case had requested a meeting with the elder Shimada brother, they claimed to have information that would blow the case wide open. It was a wise decision to ask for help from someone who wasn’t already invested in the situation, and if Genji’s case wasn’t about to go on trial he would’ve been the one here in the blistering heat to support his brother. Unfortunately, his friend was preparing for trial and had sent him instead. Genji had been adamant about someone joining his brother in the mess he entangled himself in. the young Japanese man was sure that his brother was in trouble, he just didn’t know what kind of trouble yet.

“my brother has not asked for help a day in his life.” Genji told him, “Yet he is insisting on it now. There must be more to the situation then he’s letting on, and I trust you more than anyone.” Jesse wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t followed up by a desperate plea of ‘please help my brother.’

Hanzo had messaged him the day before, they set up a formal meeting before their scheduled diner with their informant, Amelie Lacroix. As far as Jesse was told they would be discussing a long cold case of the woman’s husband Gerard Lacroix. Jesse wasn’t sure how she got whatever information she had, but this Hanzo person thought it was important. They were to meet at a secluded café later today.

Which left him confused about why he was told by the man to head down to the Talon Casino and Hotel six hours before the planned to meet that day. Said casino was surrounded by police vehicles and Jesse was sure that once he stepped through the front doors, he would find the yellow blaring crime scene tape. This wasn’t how he expected his morning to go.

“Oi!” someone called out to him as he approached the building “You there, don’t take another step!”  
He turned around as a brunette woman with wild, short hair advanced on him at an impressive pace. When she caught up with him, she didn’t seem the least bit winded either. ‘most impressive.’ Jesse thought to himself. 

“Sorry mate, but I can’t let you through without proper identification.” 

Jesse noticed she was wearing a navy police vest with the nametag Oxton clearly printed by where the breast pocket would be. Her accent was also out of place for the southwest US, but clearly recognizable as British. “tha’s understandable.” Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his wallet. Handing it to her he said, “in there ya’ll find meh ID and badge. The names Jesse McCree by the way, pleasure to meet ya.” 

Her eyes switch between the wallet and him, face blank for two point two seconds before an excited look overtook her expression. “OH! You’re that fancy PI Hanzo was telling us about. He said we might be able to expect help on the case.” She gave him a once over before sagging lamely. “kinda disappointed we won’t be meeting his infamous little brother, but I guess you’ll do.”

Jesse pressed a hand to his chest and faked a pained look. “only second best? Tha hurts doll.”

She chuckled and gave him directions to the crime scene. 

The Talon Casino looked like it was trying to pull off a timeless appearance. With darkened steel and the excessive use of red accents, it gave off more a 1920’s mob hangout, than it did a themed overpriced hotel that it truly was. He could hear the ding and trills of the slot machines as the early crowds played on the show floor as he passed by to the hotels formal dinning area and bar. Stepping over the tape he entered the room. It had the same dark seedy atmosphere as the other section he had seen, except at the end of the space was a stage. Long velvet curtains framed the stage and the detective could imagine the wandering officers work the scene were instead a crowd of jubilant guests with showgirls or classy jazz singers performing on that very stage. Instead sitting stiffly on a chair in the center of the platform was a corpse of a female, surrounding her were three officers. Even from a distance he took notice of the scene, the victim was seated on one of the dinning rooms chairs, so it was likely she placed there by the killer and didn’t die there. She was finely dressed too, a satin violet dress and if he was correct an elegant smoky eyeshadow. It was surreal, dressed up to the nine like that it almost seemed like she could get up any second and preform. At least it did until he neared the stage a bit more and noticed that there was something off with her complexion. Was her skin blue? That was a first. Her skin was definitely a very pale shade of blue. Jesse tried approaching as silently as he could but, in his contemplation, must’ve made a sound because one of the men started to address him without even turn towards him.

“If that is you Mr. McCree, then you are late” the man stated in an accented hoarse voice, the voice he recognized as that of Hanzo Shimada. Jesse wouldn’t have been able to forget such a lovely tone even if he’d only ever heard to from the receiver of his cellphone. The man in the leather jacket and woman in a button up shirt both looked up, but Hanzo was solely focus on his examination of the scene.

“Well darlin, if I’m not mistaken, I reckon I’m six hours early for our lil get together.” Jesse smirked, “Not that I’m complaining, I was just dyin’ to meet ya and all, but we had plans.”

Again, Hanzo didn’t even grace him with a glance before he firmly grated, “Plans change.”

“Kay, did ya at least reschedule our dinner, I’d hate to leave the gal waitin’.”

Hanzo took a deep breath, “there’s no reason to. I don’t believe she can make it.”

Jesse waited for a long moment for Hanzo to explain himself. He was right beside the knelt man when he finally turned to look at him. And oh, if the man’s voice was lovely, then his face was heaven sent. The sharp cut of the man’s jawline, the intellectual glint in his morose eyes, and damn those cheekbones. Jesse was not prepared for this. But he was confused by his words. Wasn’t the whole reason he was here to have that meeting? Why would she miss it? All Jesse could reply was a soft, “whys that?”

The man paused before gesturing the to figure in the chair. “because this is miss Amelie Lacroix.”


	2. Chapter 2

“looks like our girl got in over her head,” gazing across the scene Jesse tried to piece together how the events leading up to how this moment took place. Why the body was just discovered when it was openly displayed for the world to see. How long had she been there? From what Jesse could see, rigor mortis was still in effect, which gave them a time frame of one to four days. Not exactly precise but they would get a more detailed account when the body was processed. “wha’ exactly happened.”

He was answered by the chief of police, Jack Morrison. A stern man with whiting, thin hair. the man seemed to harbor a sour disposition with the way he carried himself, the tense square of his shoulders as he glanced over at the detective. The scars and frown lines only further supplied to the dreary air about the man. The gruff way his voice made everything he said sound like a feral growl. “The curtains were closed until an hour ago, they are only opened when the stage is to be prepped the morning before a performance and when the dinning hall is closed the night of a performance.” The man huffed. “Miss Olivia Colomar down by the bar, was making the morning sweep. Cleaning behind the counter, setting up the chairs and opening up the stage. She didn’t discover miss Amelie’s body till then. She called the police right after. Thankfully she didn’t contaminate the scene.”

Nodding in understanding, Jesse addressed the real issue that was bothering him. “Any thoughts on why shes blue? I know slight discoloration is normal, but tha’s just strange.”

Not only was the coloration throwing him off, but the scent was abnormal as well. Death had a distinct smell. It was a musky, rotting scent that dug its way into one’s pores so deep that it seemed like it would be the only thing you would ever smell again. Jesse had known detectives that would have to leave a scene to wrench out their stomach because of how strong even a fresh death could be. Let alone a corpse that had been sitting around for a day or more. The three other investigators should be ready for a breather after fifteen minutes of being so close to the victim. But all four of them, himself included, was fine. There was something very off about this.

This was fainter. A subtly, gentler scent.

His train of thought was broken when he was provided an answer to one of the questions plaguing him.

“The most likely cause may be an extreme lack of oxygen. Lack of oxygen happens after any death accrues, but the shade of the skin isn’t usually this intense. Even in cases of freezing or drownings the coloration isn’t this defined.” The woman to the side stated matter of factly. If Jesse had to guess, he would assume she might have native heritage in her blood, but her eye tattoo threw him a bit for a loop. So, he wasn’t gonna voice his opinion. “We’ll find out for sure once they come to get the body to the coroner. They should be here soon.”

The group went back to collecting evidence in a strained silence for a long while before anyone else spoke up. There was something weighing on the group that Jesse didn’t have the knowledge of, so he’d be damned if he was going to be the one to break the tension. Thankfully he didn’t have to, Morrison beat him to it.

“It’s kind of ironic that she was found dead on a stage.” Jack mused. “Everyone always said she was born to preform.”

Jesse thought that remark was far to dark for the current situation. It was also wrong, being a performer who dies on stage isn’t ironic, it was a coincidence. If a person with stage fright were to be found dead on stage that would be more ironic. He could call him out or say something witty. “We all have a calling. A wise man once said, what you do in this world is a matter of no consequence.” He went with witty.

Hanzo snorted, it almost sounded condescending. “Are you seriously quoting Sherlock Holmes?” the man huffed. “London is a far different that Las Vegas, or did you not realize that cowboy?”

This was the first time the elder Shimada spoke since informing Jesse on the victim’s identity. The man had been downright severe since he’d shown up, focus on nothing but what was set out before him. Examining the scene to its finest detail, as if he was breaking in apart in his mind. Like he was already piecing this puzzle together, though from the furrows between his eyebrows, Jesse guessed that he didn’t have any answers yet either. Whether he had found anything or not in his extensive one over, Hanzo didn’t share. He did look up at Jesse as if he expected him to be struck silent by his smart remark, as if that was what spiraled into his momentary stillness. No, it was the sight of the stoic man’s soundless laugh that had done him in. Not to mention his damn snort.

“Darlin, you should know that murder is the same no matter where it happens.”

Well, that got him a look. Not a particularly favorable one either.

It wasn’t long after that when the four of them split off into two teams. One to continue examining the remains and another to question the witness. Hanzo reluctantly joined miss Amari to question the hotel staff worker, Olivia. Leaving Jesse alone with mister ray of sunshine Morrison. Just fucking great.

\--------------------

Hanzo was entirely distraught, he thought that he would be putting one of the few cases that kept him awake at night finally to rest today. Only to lose the chance to do so and to have another body to add to the pile. Unlike many of the other cases, this wasn’t a nameless face. This was his friend. Amelie was the person who enjoyed shitty coffee with him just to people watch and make snarky comments with. She was someone who understood their mutual despair. They never talked about their demons, but they understood them, maybe if they did speak about it, she wouldn’t be dead.

He liked Fareeha, enough to lean on her in his time of need. But the cheeky grin on her face as they left the crime scene left a sinking feeling I n his gut. Genji used to give him the same look when he found something particularly amusing. The elder Shimada learned early on that Fareeha and his brother were cut from the same cloth, at least when it came to teasing him. So, all Hanzo could do was brace for it.

The woman next to him snickered. “So, a cowboy detective, say doesn’t that sound familiar Hanzo?”

“No.” he grunted.

“That’s surprising being that you’re on what book four of the ‘Death City’ novels. Which may I remind you is focused around a homicide detective with relations to a famous old west outlaw? This Jesse McCree looks like he could’ve walked right out of your books!” 

Fareeha became more and more enthusiastic as she continued. “its like you wrote a book about him without ever meeting the man.”

All he could do was huff indignantly. Just because he made a character based on some wild stories Genji had relayed to him does not mean Jesse McCree is Kurt James. They are nothing alike, Jesse seems rash and loud, Kurt was serious and refined. Like the old Clint Eastwood movies Hanzo secretly enjoyed when he ran out of shogun films to watch as a kid. If that man was the inspiration for Kurt James then Hanzo could declare he was majorly disappointed.

“You are reading too much into this,” he sighed dejectedly. “lets just speak with the witness.”

"Fine, but I am not done with this Hanzo."

Olivia Colomar was leaning against the bar when they approached. She didn’t seem to be affected by the body not fifty yards away, she looked distant. Hanzo has seen many people react to death, and they all were different. It still looks suspicious. He has to admit that the dark atmosphere adds to the ominous aspects of the situation. It could also be from the fact that Hanzo never liked places like these. Dimly lite, crowded and filled with conceit. 

“It’s about time someone came over here to talk to me. I’ve been held up here for close to an hour, and the boss is gonna blow a casket if the hall isn’t prepped soon.”

“I’m sorry for the inconvince miss Colomar, but the stage wont be able to be prepped anytime soon, being that is a crime scene. We may have to speak to your employer later so we will discuss the details with him when we do.” Fareeha has always been better with speaking with people, however Hanzo was skilled at observing. Seeing the minor twitches in the fascial muscles that indicated sincerity or deceit.

Like the slight twitch of her lips upward, like she found the exchange entertained her to some faceted. By what, he wasn’t sure. Hanzo intently listened as the woman went through describing the typical routine she follow that morning leading up to the discovery. She conveyed the information in full detail and with upmost professionalism. She was a stand up witness, one anyone officer would ask for.

But Hanzo wasn’t an officer. Hanzo was a writer. 

And as a writer he could tell when a scene didn’t make sense.

From the micro expressions miss Colomar made, to how Amelie was dumped. Everything about the case so far felt… off. It felt wrong.

And Hanzo was going to find out why.


	3. Chapter 3

An hour after Jesse arrived to process the scene the coroner’s assistant came and transported the body, between him and officer Morrison they had already procured any DNA and fibers that lingered on the remains. Not that either of them was too hopeful with their findings.  
The body was clean. Too clean. Posed to perfection with her hair styled and secured away from her face. Professionally done make up lined her eyes and tinted her lips. There were no contusions along her body other then the wounds on her spine, her wrists and ankles were bruised a darker violet than the rest of her skin.

They would have to wait for the coroner’s report for any clarifications on what transpired to Amelie.  
Miss Amari and the elder Shimada had explained briefly what their witness had told them and that they would have to get in contact with the hotel owner to see when they would have access to a list of people who had admission to the backstage within the last couple of days. It would also be vital to look into finding out if this section of the hotel had security cameras.

By the time noon approached Jesse and the other investigators collected everything of value and talked with most of the employees that were on staff that morning. The officers decided to head back to the station and go over the evidence they had so far.

McCree was planning on following them back precinct until Hanzo pulled him to the side claiming that they had matters to discuss and a dinner to keep. The fact that their dinner guest was currently ice cold on a coroner’s slab, Jesse would agree that he was owed a dinner date. He also deserved some answers on the strange circumstances he now found himself in. So he ended up following he other man’s car to a hole in the wall diner instead.

Hanzo walked through the place with a casual confidence that was overwhelmingly stunning. The man was all business, yet still at home when telling the waitress to hold off on getting their ordered till he signaled it was okay. With a nod and a smile, the redhead agreed as she went to help other customers and Hanzo led Jesse to the back most booth. It was one of the only available seating’s in the restaurant, most likely because of the reserved sign.  
“O darlin’ do you take all your partners here?” McCree grinned devilishly. “Or am I just special?”

The other man huffed. “We are not partners; at most you are my assistant. I do not have partners whatsoever.” He shifted in his chair in discomfort. “and either way this is my booth, whether I have company or not.”

“So, I am special.”

That earned McCree a glare. 

Apparently, the elder Shimada didn’t understand the concept of light flirting. Okay then all business then. “Tell me about our girl Amelie. Do you have any ideas what she wanted to talk with us about? What kind of trouble she had gotten into?”

“Ms. Lacroix most likely wished to discuss a cold case, the murder of her late husband Gerald Lacroix.”

McCree’s fingers thrummed against the tabletop in thought. “how long ago since his passing?”

“Seven years.” Hanzo’s voice strained. “the seventh year since the investigation close is about to pass as well. I believe Amelie wanted to reopen it. When she called unexpectedly last week, I suspected she might’ve hired a private investigator, but recent events suggest she was looking into the case herself. Or else we would’ve found another body.”

“Unexpectedly? So, did she call you often?” If this case was personal to Hanzo that might explain why he’s so tense. Though it also makes Jesse wonder why he was even on the case.

“We were friends, I was friends with Gerald as well.” The man eyed McCree critically before continuing. “Are you interrogating me Jesse McCree?”

“Just trying to get as much information as I can sugar, I ain’t accusin’ ya of anything. I swear I’m not.” Jesse sighed. God, why does this man have to be so difficult.

The only response he got was a long-winded sigh, before Hanzo continued with his tale on his acquaintanceship with the Lacroix couple. Shimada and the Lacroix’s’ met ten years back, Hanzo had been scouting out location to add to one of his books when he had stumbled upon their theater. The Première ballet and arts theater had been in Gerald’s family for four generations, Amelie and Gerald met there in they’re youth. Hanzo stated that fell in love with the building and often attended shows there. There might be more to it but when Jesse brought it up, he just snorted and looked away. Story for another time then. About eight years prior the theater hit hard times. Bankruptcy seemed just around the corner, Gerald suggested putting up the building for sale and Amelie wanted to ask for donations. Gerald caved and set up a final show as a call to action to save the historic monument. Hanzo was in attendance that night, he had just finished his third novel and made a large donation. Amelie was on stage performing. But Gerald never showed which was unlike the man, he was Amelie’s biggest supporter and was directing every show from backstage. Every show except that one.

“Amelie tried calling their house at least a dozen time from the start of the show to the curtain call. He only picked up the first claiming that he was just about to head out,” Hanzo closed his eyes, face pinched in a pained expression. “when she returned home, she found her husband tied to their bed with a head wound and a shot to the chest.”

“Did the police have any suspects?” Jesse ventured.

“The only suspect they had was Amelie, but she had a solid alibi. she knew my past as a homicide detective and asked for my help, so I offered my assistance. As a team we found more evidence but no solid suspects or motives. I’ve been working with the precinct since but that one’s always followed me.”

McCree gave Hanzo his best sympathetic look. “Cause he was your friend?”

Hanzo sneered. “Yes, that and the fact that his killer is still out there.” He leaned over and rested his forehead in his hands. “Now Amelie’s dead too, just another person I know that I couldn’t protect.”

That last comment was a bit bizarre. He didn’t get much time to ponder it though when the man across from him straitened and settled his gaze on the detective.

“I may not know what she discovered that got her killed and I know I only requested your help with one case. But if you’re willing, I believe that with your participation we could solve both cases and find out who murdered my friends.”

Jesse grinned. “darlin’ all ya had to do was ask.” 

He reached out his hand towards the Japanese man and the other took it. The handshake was firm and professional, but oh could Jesse feel the sparks between the two already. When they let go, Hanzo signaled the waitress and they started on actually having dinner like the rest of the diner. It was casual. And Jesse had a lovely view of the stranger he shared a table with. He didn’t really know Hanzo. Jesse understood that Hanzo was an expert in his field, no matter what field it may be. He was stoic and all business, or at least it seemed so. But maybe this would be a good chance to truly get to know who Hanzo is.

“So,” Jesse drawled out. “what knida books do ya write?”


End file.
